


Contact

by artvinsky



Series: Kintsugi  (金継ぎ_) [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5 times + 1 time, Angst, Baking, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Gen, Implied Relationships, Impromptu Dance Party, M/M, Movie Night, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pajamas & Sleepwear, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Pokemon Battle, Suicidal Thoughts, dancing in the kitchen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artvinsky/pseuds/artvinsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is half man, half machine, and nobody even thinks to come into contact with him because of what he is. All touches he feels now are deliberate, to examine, to poke, to prod-</p><p>to hurt.</p><p>But his team mates prove him wrong. They always do.</p><p>--</p><p>aka. five times the people in the team have touched Genji because they care, and one time he touches someone else because he cares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i. Mercy

Mercy was kind to him in a time where he had refused to acknowledge himself, touched him with care when all he had wanted was burn in that fire that Hanzo had left him in-

He doesn't think that now.

He was the pinnacle of all the years of hard work and study she'd thrown her life into in the field of medical research, her magnum opus. She had taken the gods' work in her very hands and taken a dead man, taken him, and brought him back to life, given him a body stronger than he had ever dreamed of having.

And he had hated her for it.

Loathed her.

Under Overwatch, mission after mission, he wanted to flinch from her kind hands in her clinic and take himself apart and to undo all the work that she had poured into giving him a second chance-

He was meant to be dead.

~~By his brother's hand-~~

Instead, brought back to life with this burden, the grief, the pain of knowing that Hanzo would take it upon himself to rid the clan of him-

He doesn't flinch when Mercy ( ~~and he laughs pathetically to himself, what mercy?~~ ) gets him to sit as she runs diagnostics on him after a successful assault taken by their smaller strike team in Paris. She hums as she reads the small data pad that she balances on her arm and Genji feigns ease as he sits, the intermittent humming of all the different machines in the clinic washes over him.

He feels numb, hollow, ~~phantom sensations of the fire and his brother’s blade slicing through his skin when he closes his eyes—~~

"Everything seems to be in top shape, Genji, the scratches on your torso from that spray of bullets from earlier is superficial, and your armour will self-repair in no time," she remarks with an smile, pressing a few buttons on her screen that causes the hydraulics connected up to his spine to unlatch themselves from him and detract into their source of machinery; meant to feed his body with electric charges to bring him right back to a hundred percent.

He stands and while his new body's doesn't register pain and stiffness from sitting far too long, he stretches, vents along his shoulders and arms releasing steam as he does. Mercy gives him space and Genji can see her swiping through his medical history, typing in updates to his patient files with her deft fingers.

She gives him a gentle touch on the arm on his way out, and Genji can see in her eyes that there is nothing but care. It is almost motherly and he wonders if she looks at all her patients with such kind eyes, regardless of who they are or where they've come from-

He thinks that within time he might be able to forgive her-

~~She is not the source of his pain, or of his fury-~~

Forgive her for what she's done to him.

~~But he sustains it because of her hand.~~

If he is not gone by then.

He bows instead, grateful for her care and he can feel the warmth from her hands on his shoulder as he takes his leave. "Thank you, Doctor Ziegler."

“Of course, Genji.”

\--

He sees her again more frequently now that they act in secrecy and he finds himself grateful for the reassurance and support that’s intrinsic within her every single action. She is a doctor, and she always has been. She was simply doing what she felt was right. Were they in another life, free from the war perhaps, Genji could see Angela as a great mother.

He has forgiven her.

Forgiveness and patience comes to him more easily these days.

He is in and out of her clinic for quick diagnostics more often than not but the warm hand on his shoulder is a constant.

Such is his gratitude.


	2. ii. Tracer

What Genji admires about Tracer is her confidence, and the way she throws herself head first into everything that she does without hesitation. Be it a mission, training, or even during whatever movies they decide to watch during their down time.

He was like that once, a past life.

Unsurprisingly enough, Tracer is utterly focused during movies, often times curling up on whatever seat they’d found themselves in front of a projector and meagre sound system that they had often quickly put together in whatever bases they bunker down in. It is standard procedure and the equipment was strictly meant to be used for strategic meetings and mission briefings for their growing group.

Much to Winston’s dismay, the only purpose they’ve been for as of late is to watch movies and play video games. Even Reinhardt and Torbjorn take turns introducing much older films to them that had often made even McCree call them out dubiously on their taste.

“Didn’t peg you two to even watch this crap,” Genji hears the gunslinger huff as he looks to the screen and sees Reinhardt’s contribution to their growing library of movies, an eclectic mix of new and old. Genji has to stifle a laugh at the image of women dressed aggressively in short pink skirts and sharp heels giving the lead actress in the foreground a mean side-eye. _Mean Girls_ , the movie reads-

“This was a _classic,_ McCree _,_ ” Reinhardt simply laughs and they see Torbjorn nodding his agreement.

Thankfully, it was Genji’s turn to pick the film.

He picks something way before their time, Hayao Miyazaki’s _Spirited Away_. Despite everything, it is still one of his favourite films, one of Hanzo’s as well-

And despite everything he is, Tracer curls up against his side with a blanket around her shoulders, the light of her accelerator filtering through the gaps of the fabric. Genji relaxes as he feels her inching closer to him once the film gets to the part of Chihiro’s parents turning into pigs, and she looks up at him with a grin and shifts the way she sits against him to something more comfortable when he draws an arm around her shoulders.

He smiles behind his helmet, listening to her avid whispers against Chihiro’s parents to stop eating the food.

In the middle of the film, he catches Hanzo’s eye, he had been standing off to the side of the room ever since the film had started. Genji watches him settle down in one of the more beat up lounge chairs next to McCree and sees something visceral in his eyes, shifting through nostalgia and pain—

(He sees in his mind a flash of a summer morning, cherry blossom petals filtering through the castle courtyard, his feet thumping energetically on the timber floors as he runs away laughing from Hanzo who had donned a black sheet they’ve taken from one of the many linen closets and called himself No Face.)

And Hanzo quickly looks away, turning to the projection instead. Genji watches McCree draw his serape with a small smile out for them both to share whilst they continue to watch.

Genji turns back to Tracer curled against him as she watches the movie, lips slightly parted as she takes in sharp breaths at the sight of the dragon Haku writhing in the air against the shards of paper, and how she jumps when he bursts through the shoji screen a hair’s breadth away from Chihiro.

Tracer watches her films as though she was within the very film itself. Genji finds himself smiling draws the blanket tighter around her shoulders and he turns back to the screen.

It becomes a regular occurrence, unspoken but not unwelcome. Genji takes his favourite seat against arm of the old sofa, and Tracer jumps in after him with a blanket and promptly snuggling up against his side, unconcerned whether or not he was as human as she was. He’s rewarded with excited discourse after amidst their snuggling, a verbal discussion between them both of whatever film they have finished viewing.

He remembers to wear the fraying hoodie he’s taken from the safe house in Hanamura when Reinhardt announces that they’re to watch _Mean Girls_ after dinner.


	3. iii. Lucio

After the first time he’s prepared ramen for the team, he finds himself in the kitchen more frequently. He’s assisting Lucio with making another of _brigadeiros_ by popular demand; Zarya and Mercy together make a compelling persuasion of it, Genji realises. A good portion the team love their chocolate and he cannot blame them.

He feels that pang in his chest yet again, of knowing that there will be food, delectable food to consume and share but he pushes it aside as he catches the multi-coloured paper cups that Lucio tosses at him. As he’s setting out a batch of them on one of the trays, he finds himself nodding along to the music that Lucio plays from his own set of speakers, letting his inhibitions loosen up a little to the music-

It’s not unlike the music that he remembers in the background of the arcades he had frequented, or at the clubs that he had always gone dancing to instead of meetings at the clan. He thinks of the way his body’s felt pressed up against many others on the dancefloor, the memory of sweat, contact and alcohol flooding his mind briefly-

Lucio never stops moving, Genji finds out, head always bobbing to the rhythm, hair bouncing and feet quick as he stirs another saucepan full of fudge. The bass notes pleasantly echo in Genji’s core and he finds himself humming and swaying along to the song, unfamiliar it might be. Hanzo may have chided him for his inability to keep a tune but he is glad that Lucio doesn’t seem to mind.

He looks over his shoulder to see Lucio rocking his body fluidly to the song as it peaks, and Genji laughs despite himself, earning an earnest smile from the younger man.

“Hey, you got some good moves there yourself, Genji,” Lucio hollers at him, sliding up behind him to reach for the sprinkles at the edge of the counter.

He feels Lucio’s arm against his back as he balances himself against Genji, stretching an arm out to grab the unopened canister of chocolate sprinkles. He bounces his head to the music and he feels the way Lucio bodily presses up behind him, hands on his hips, palms warm from stirring the saucepan of fudge and swaying to the beat.

Genji laughs, enjoying the way he feels himself being swayed to and from by the smaller man, and Lucio hums loudly, spinning around behind him smoothly to reach over and take the sprinkles just off the edge of one of the paper lined baking trays.

They spend the next few songs dancing to Lucio’s mix, and the high-paced tempos begin to subdue to a much more chill rhythm. Genji finds himself setting out the chocolate-coated brigadeiros in time with the beat of the constant snare and bass drum underlying the soft plucking of guitars. Lucio’s shaking of the sprinkles onto the balled fudge he forms in his palms highlights the soft synth notes that echo delicately over the rest of the instruments.

Genji taps his feet to the beat as he stores the finished trays to chill in the refrigerator and he finds himself infected by the beat, the music coursing through him and he finds that he hasn’t stopped smiling behind his mask since they started working.

Lucio’s hand returns to the small of his back, still warm, still swaying as he joins him. Both of them crowd into the cold of the open refrigerator, heads nodding to the beat, Lucio’s locs quietly rattling against the nape of his neck and his own sash swaying against his shoulder as they place the last trays of fudge to cool.

An hour later when the music begins to pick up in its pace, when the brigadeiros are well and truly ready to be served to the rest of the team, Pharah finds them both dancing in the kitchen, hips bumping slightly as they clean up the saucepans and whisks of chocolate by the sink. Genji finds himself laughing breathlessly, the lights on his body glowing brighter to match Lucio’s smile.

Lucio calls out to the rest of the team, unable to stop Fareeha from grabbing the first couple bites of the chocolate for herself, and they are met with an impromptu food and dance party in the kitchen, Angela dancing with her hand in Fareeha’s, and a mouthful of chocolate that they share between them. Lucio gets pulled away by Tracer and Hana, the girls munching on the dessert and catching the falling sprinkles with their hands as they dance with the DJ.

Genji even smiles to himself, the vents along his arms shutting as hands covered in water and soap suds. He looks up from scrubbing the whisks to see McCree swaying around to the beat as he walks away from the refrigerator, albeit somewhat uncoordinatedly, and sauntering over with a handful of fudge to where his brother leans by the door way looking in equal parts embarrassed and utterly charmed.

Even Hanzo manages to tap his feet to the music.

Much later, after all the fudge is gone, Lucio thanks him for the help and the dance, his warm hands on Genji’s back yet again.

He obliges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the brigadeiro in this chapter is dedicated to user [Sataara](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sataara/pseuds/Sataara) who wanted more of the dessert ever since Lucio mentioned it in [_Broth_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7027552). Now I seriously want some brigadeiro too. 
> 
> Music in this fic:  
> (x) Disclosure - "White Noise"  
> (x) Alex Burey - "Unspoken"


	4. iv. D.va

Over the years that he’s come to accept his body with a great deal of humility and peace that he’s learnt from Zenyatta, Genji finds himself to be much more humble than who he used to be. Finds himself more able to see the world around him so much more clearly because of it.

Though his humility cannot be said for his skill in video games.

It’s been years since he picked up the controller of a console or a handheld, and being in the original strike team before the fall of Overwatch has never given him the opportunity to pick up all the games that he’s missed in during his service, much less due to the almost complete erasure of all parts of himself outside his pain and grief.

Now, he is whole. And he’s surprised to find that his enjoyment of these games hasn’t wavered.

He’s also pleased to say that out of the rest of their team, he’s the most capable to hold his own against D.Va where video games are concerned. Lucio is surprised to find him being able to go toe to toe with her even if it is just for a few minutes.

Commander Morrison, Genji remembers that he refuses to take that name now, finds them all in varying stages of leisure in the projection room one evening after an assignment. Genji is curled up against the arm of the old beaten up sofa in his old hoodie, Lucio leaning against the backrest behind him keenly paying attention to the screen of the old Gameboy Touch in Genji’s hands. It’s a bright orange thing peppered with old stickers, leant to him by Hana herself.

D.va however, takes up the rest of the sofa, her head on top of one of her _ridiculous_ pillows that is propped against the armrest as she’s bodily sprawled onto the rest of the somewhat caved in upholstery.

(Genji remembers fondly owning an equally ridiculous pillow of the sort a long time ago in his bed in Hanamura.)

Genji would worry about her the back pains she’d wake up with in the morning but her socked feet have been repeatedly kicking against the side of his thighs and hip for the past few hours and this makes him forget otherwise. She kicks her feet like she presses her buttons, very vigorously, which also makes him grateful for his body now. At least he knows he would not bruise.

He raises his head and turns to face Morrison staring at them with exasperation in his eyes. The old commander has taken off the red visor that he wears on the field and Genji is struck by how much the man has aged, how much he’s seen that has etched lines on his face. And the scars. The man used to be quite handsome, with kind and generous eyes but now Genji only sees weariness.

“You kids still play that game?” Morrison all but grumbles as he walks over to D.va’s side of the couch, squinting at her GB Touch screen. Genji glances over to see Hana’s tongue sticking out of her mouth as she mashes the button, choosing which attack her high level Rowlet plays against his own level 80 Noivern.

“Look, at this point she’s literally just trying to beat her own record to see how long she can beat Genji,” Lucio comments, and Genji doesn’t have to see his face to see his grin. The audio medic leans against the headrest of the sofa further with his arms folded against the headrest as he looks over Genji's shoulder.

It takes D.va’s Pokemon less than three turns before his Noivern is utterly decimated.

He resists the urge to throw is head back against the sofa’s old headrest and groan loudly like a child. Hana, kicking her feet excitedly against his side yet again in quiet triumph, is grinning at him from the top of her handheld. Genji's eyes flick up behind her to see a small quirk at the corner of Morrison's lips, the old soldier amused despite himself.

“Perhaps—” Genji begins to say, feigning nonchalance, and turns to Morrison. He swiftly tosses the old Gameboy Touch in a nice arc over Hana's prone form for the old commander to catch. Morrison does so, reflexes still intact, before the device would land square on Hana's face. He receives another soft kick against his side and a grimace from her for being so careless. “Commander Morrison would like to try playing against you, Hana. He seems very interested.”

Morrison scoffs as he turns to handheld in his hands, eyeing the faded stickers on the cover, but he walks over to Genji's side of the beaten up sofa, gesturing for him to move and make room. Hana's legs, clad in her warm fleece pajama pants and fluffy bed socks (both are equally as ridiculous as her character pillow), stop kicking at the side of his body and fully sprawl themselves in his lap as Morrison sinks into the seat next to him.

The warmth of Hana's feet in his lap is not unwelcome. The fabric is soft and worn, much like his own hoodie and it is a comfort. He lays his hand on her feet, holding them down to keep them from kicking repeatedly at him again.

“Good game, _oppa_ ,” Hana remarks with a smirk before sticking her tongue out at him over the top of her pink handheld. Under his own hand, he can feel her toes wiggle in her socks. “Didn’t think you could keep up with me for that long.”

“Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?” he snorts, attempting to knock her feet off his lap. She dodges swiftly and comfortably sets her feet back on top of his hands, toes wiggling yet again.

“Yeah, you are! You know _‘GG’_ also means _‘Good Genji’_ , right?”

“Is this your professional opinion?” he laughs.

“It is.”

Genji turns back to Morrison and Lucio, and he gives a swift elbow to the older man's side when he hears the commander starting to pick out Pokemon to use, mocking his choices of Pokemon.

Lucio laughs the hardest when Morrison loses to Hana in a record time of under a minute. The weight of her feet in his lap is a comfort. So does the familiar warmth of her woolly bed socks and pink fleece pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: hey everyone, thank you so much for all your support! sorry for the delay in the updates (i know it's been 2 months) but a lot's happened to me since then, and because of that, i wasn't in the right head space to work this series. now that uni's started back up again, i think i'd be able to write again as i use this as a form of procrastination LAUGHS
> 
> but yeah, again, thank you to all of you for your support, it really means a lot to me ;;;33;;;


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